


S6 E20 In God We Trust

by JDPostEpisodeChallenge, kcat1971



Series: Josh & Donna Post Episode Challenge [10]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDPostEpisodeChallenge/pseuds/JDPostEpisodeChallenge, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcat1971/pseuds/kcat1971
Summary: Sometimes it's a matter of faith.





	1. Donna

I leave the war room as quickly as I'm able to get away without it being obvious. When I get to the elevator, I give the button a hard jab. It doesn't really relieve the frustration that I'm feeling.

Will and Bingo Bob, at this point in my mind I don't give him the honorarium of calling him the Vice-President, are plotting ways to capitalize on the media blitz surrounding Vinick's faith or lack thereof. I kept my head down and stayed out of it for the most part, until they started brainstorming ways to make Santos' Catholic faith an issue. Then I bailed.

I'm a protestant. Just barely, much to my Grandmother's dismay. But President Bartlet is Catholic and I love him beyond measure. I just couldn't stand to hear their ideas on how to make Catholicism a negative.

Not to mention how short-sighted it is! We don't have the nomination wrapped up. It's no time to alienate anyone!

When I get to the lobby, I stride out of the elevator and head toward the bar. I'm certainly no teetotaler but I've never felt as driven to drink as I have in the last few months. Not even at the height of the insanity of working for Josh.

Half way across the room, I stop short. What was that my Grandmother used to say? Speak of the devil and he shall appear?

Because sitting at the bar, is someone I'd recognize anywhere. Shoulders slightly hunched. Rumpled suit. Out of control auburn hair.

I feel a pang lance through my chest. God. I miss him. I miss his cocky brilliance. I miss his snarky wit, that even as it teased, never devolved into meanness. I miss his eyes following me around the room. I miss being able to look at him for a nod of approval, and suddenly feeling the confidence that I'm doing okay. I don't just miss him. I miss us. The way we used to be.

I'm tempted to turn on my heel and walk way. I don't know if I can stand to see the sadness in his eyes that haunts me after each of our encounters. I betrayed him. He's hurting and it's my fault.

I try to summon my anger because that's what it takes for me to get through these casual interactions, but the problem is, it's almost all gone.

Once I got out here on my own, I realized that Josh didn't hold me back. Almost everything I know, almost everything I'm capable of doing, is because of what he taught me. Will's alright, but he's no Josh. There could never be another Josh.

I hadn't realized it, but my feet have been taking me slowly closer to the bar. I guess I really am drawn to him. There's just something about him. I've known it since day one. I've tried to run from it twice now.

I finally acknowledge that I need to be near him, and slide into the seat next to him.

"Hey."

"I was wondering if you were going to come over."

"How'd you know I was behind you?"

He tilts his head toward the large mirror behind the bar.

"Aaaah."

"You looked furious. I was wondering if that anger was about to be unleashed on me." His voice is soft, a little uncertain.

"Not this time."

I drop my head onto my arms. I'm suddenly very tired. I want to win. To prove myself. But the more I learn about my candidate, the less I like. Josh was right. He refused to back a candidate he didn't believe in. Win or lose, he can be proud of himself. I'm wondering whether I'll feel proud of myself under either outcome.

"Are you alright?"

He puts a hand gently on my shoulder, and I suddenly find myself wanting to cry. I'm sure it's just the lack of sleep, but it's been awhile since I felt like someone cared about how I was feeling. For the better part of a year, I've been trying to convince myself and everyone else that I'm fine.

And God. I didn't realize how much I missed him touching me until this moment. And God. I can't stand the thought that he might never touch me again.

Because I was hurting, and angry, and confused. I told him I was over him. I left him. I moved on.

But I still feel unfulfilled.

Turns out it wasn't a different job with a better title, and more authority, and better pay that I needed.

Will I ever get over loving this man? Anger didn't work. Maybe honesty will.

And if I'm rejected then maybe my heart will break for good, and I really will be able to let go. I blink a few times and then I finally look up into his warm brown eyes.

"I miss you."

He gives me a sad smile. "I miss you too, Donnatella."

Hearing my name on his lips gives me a sudden surge of courage and I blurt out the only thing that might make me feel better.

"I love you."


	2. Josh

I'm sitting here nursing a beer. I just needed a few more moments to myself. A few of the young turks suggested some pretty obnoxious ways we could try to capitalize on the religious differences between the Congressman and Vinick. I was ready to shoot the ideas down, but before I even had a chance, Matt said no way. His faith is personal, not political.

I'm certainly glad he took that stance. Even though he's got the church thing covered, his campaign manager is living in a big old glass house, so I don't want to be throwing any stones.

I'm Jewish. Just technically, Toby likes to remind me. It's not that I have anything against faith. A lot of people whom I care a great deal about have faith. I just have a hard time believing in it myself.

When the elevator dings, I automatically look into the mirror behind the bar to see if it's someone I should acknowledge. My heart soars, then immediately plummets, as Donna strides off.

She looks pissed. And she's coming my way.

I rack my brain to think of what I might have done lately to put her in such a mood. I used to know how to banter, cajole, or tease my way out of her ire, but that ship has sailed. And I have no faith that it will ever return.

Suddenly, she stops short. She's staring at where I'm sitting with an odd expression on her face. I wait for her to look up and make eye contact in the mirror, but her eyes remain downcast, even as her feet start to move slowly forward.

She seems unaware of her surroundings until she slides into the seat next to me, so I brace myself for when she notices that I'm here.

"Hey." Her tone is flat. Not at all what I expected.

"I was wondering if you were going to come over."

"How'd you know I was behind you?"

I tilt my head toward the large mirror behind the bar.

"Aaaah."

I wonder if I should mention her apparent anger, now that it seems like it isn't going to be directed at me? I used to be able to help when she was upset.

"You looked furious. I was wondering if that anger was about to be unleashed on me."

"Not this time."

Her voice sounds strangled, and she drops her head onto her arms on top of the bar. I'm not sure what to do. She needs something, but what? Reassurance that she's more than capable? I'm not sure she'd accept it. She's made it pretty clear that she's outgrown my mentorship. No surprise there. I always knew she would.

"Are you alright?"

I'd like to run my hand over her head, but I settle for placing it gently on her shoulder, desperately hoping she doesn't shrug it off. This might be the last time I get to touch her, so I try to memorize what it feels like.

Her shoulders are tight. I wish she wasn't so stressed. I just want her to be happy, no matter where she is. I'd like her to be happy with me. But that's too much to hope for.

She takes a couple short breaths, and then slowly lifts her head. Her eyes are shiny. Oh god. She's trying not to cry.

"I miss you."

There's pain in her voice when she says it. It breaks my heart a little. I hate that's she hurting, but I also feel a little tiny flicker of hope deep inside me, so I give her a small smile as I return the sentiment.

"I miss you too, Donnatella."

Her eyes flash to mine. I didn't mean to use her whole name. It just came out. It's what I used to call her when I wanted her to know how much I cherish her. I'm wondering if I'm about to be chided for taking old liberties when suddenly she says something I thought I'd never hear.

"I love you."

My heart just stopped. Could this possibly be true? She said it pretty plainly. I don't think I misunderstood. But her eyes are wide, like she can't quite believe she said it herself.

And she looks like she's going to run.

My brain screams at me to do something before that happens, and I find myself acting on impulse as I place my hand on the back of her head, and pull her face towards mine. And now I'm kissing her, and everything I've been feeling is pouring out of me.

But I've never felt more alive, because Donna is kissing me back.

I don't know how long it lasts, but eventually, I remember that we are in a public place. And we work for opposing campaigns. Donna must arrive at the same conclusion, because simultaneously, we drift apart.

Now her eyes are filled with wonder. I run my hand softly down the side of her face. And smile gently at her.

"In case that wasn't clear, I love you too."

Donna's whole face lights up, and suddenly, my faith is restored. We have declared ourselves. The rest will all work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked to write Josh's perspective so there you go! This really is the end of the story. You just have to have faith that the rest will work itself out.


End file.
